


Haze

by Nutbrain



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, depiction of sensory overload, they're adorable idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 17:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20586437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutbrain/pseuds/Nutbrain
Summary: Sometimes the world gets too overwhelming to handle by yourself.





	Haze

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, this is one depiction of sensory overload. This is certainly not saying it's how everyone experiences it or that it's even described in a way that encapsulates it perfectly.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Mute teetered through the door, smell of rain brushing over him. It helped to clear some of the lingering haze of the pub behind him. Exuberant shouts and loud music thrummed from within, atmosphere clashing harshly with the serenity that he felt as he stepped out underneath the awning. Mute allowed the door to click shut behind, taking the cloying scents and sounds away with the light it had shed. He gazed out into the storm raging outside, struggling to slow his breathing and hold down the growing feeling in the pit of his stomach. The Brit shoved both hands into his jean pockets and breathed deeply, cleansing the smell of sweat, nicotine, and alcohol from his sinuses. Shaky as his heaving breaths were, they helped cut through the chaos of his roiling thoughts; his trembling hand found his phone and began toying with the stand on the back, clicking in and out, in and out. The increased oxygen and the repetitive motion seemed to allow him to recenter just a bit.

The door squeaked suddenly, reintroducing the raucous sounds into Mute’s tranquil bubble. The Brit to flinch ever so slightly, aggravating his friable senses. A figured stepped out, and Mute watched as the shadow on the pavement bumped the door, encouraging it to close faster. He glanced over his shoulder, more for confirmation than anything else, to ensure the figure was who the Brit thought it was. Smoke sauntering up to him, dragging along some of the overwhelming pub smells; they intermingled unpleasantly with the cloying scent of lab chemicals, cologne, and hair gel. Mute turned back towards the street, still fidgeting with his phone as they stood there a moment in silence.

“Well, luv, should I call a cabbie? Or did you intend to stand out here ‘til the bar clears out?” Smoke asked, already pulling up the number as he bumped softly into his boyfriend’s shoulder. Mute grunted noncommittally, unwilling to relinquish his dry spot for a walk home, but dreading the drive back. Smoke spoke softly with the person who answered the call, arranging a ride with one company or another. Mute could feel Smoke glancing over every so often, but stubbornly refused to acknowledge it, opting instead to watch the impact of water on the street, mind spacing out and eyes unfocusing. Cars occasionally drove past, wipers moving at full speed as they disrupted the puddles on the road, lights far too bright as they pulled the man out of his headspace. Mute averted his eyes briefly before he would continue to stare, watching as the water settled back afterwards, losing track of time as he repeated this little ritual.

A soft bump at his side roused him just enough to glance over at Smoke, worry marring the other’s face as he looked expectantly at the younger Brit.

“Did ya, hear what I said, mate?” Smoke asked. Mute stared for a moment and blinked, trying to decide if he had. Coming up with nothing, he shook his head. “I said the cabbie will be here soon.” Mute nodded at this, turning away and staring across the street now, looking at the darkened windows of the lower shops and pulled drapes of the apartments above.

The light spilled out through the door again, casting larger than life shadows from those standing near it. This time it remained open, a man shouting back into the pub as he acted as a doorstop. A handful of people filtered out around him, giggling at each other. Mute’s head pounded in sync with every noise. The people inside trailed out, one woman’s stumble knocking into Mute slightly and he shied away, stepping closer to the street despite the risk of being splashed by a passing car. Mute barely registered Smoke bodily placing himself between the newcomers and Mute, chastising them for not respecting personal space.

The cab pulled up, one of the people from the pub drunkenly crowing about their luck even as Smoke tugged Mute towards the back of the cart. The techie scooted to the far side, crushing against the door and resuming his window watching; somewhere in the background of his mind, he heard Smoke passing on directions and the request for a faster than usual transit. He could feel Smoke’s gaze flickering to him every other word, but couldn’t bring himself to return it.

Breathing in, the cab smelled of artificial pine and nicotine. Mute’s nose crinkled in disgust as he was forced to bury his lower face in his sweater, even as it scratched uncomfortably against his skin. The Brit fidgeted irritably with the fabric before doing his best to shift his focus outside, gaze once again transfixed by the downpour. 

Streetlights flashed by as Mute stared at the window’s raindrops. He watched as they snaked down and joined other individuals, pulling them along as they continued their journey together until they were finally swept out of view. After each loss, Mute’s eyes searched for a new drop to replace them. During a particularly long phase of inactive drops, Mute noted that the cabbie had kept his music off, likely a request he missed from Smoke; Smoke, whose gaze towards Mute’s tapping foot was the loudest thing in the otherwise quiet vehicle. But the droplets started moving again and they were much easier to focus on.

Mute’s thoughts re-centered as the car rolled to a stop, the man slowly realizing they were in a familiar neighborhood. He stared, trying to figure out how long they’d been driving, only to be interrupted as Smoke stepped around to open the car door for him. Mute climbed out into the downpour and stood there for a moment, gathering his thoughts as he stared around in an attempt to collect himself. Currently, his mind was hyper focusing on how much he could feel his clothes rubbing against his skin. Sensing this internal battle, Smoke grabbed Mute’s shirt sleeve and tugged him hurriedly to the building’s entrance.

“Did you pay the cabbie, Smoke?” Mute asked, glancing back and not seeing the vehicle anymore. Smoke raised an eyebrow at him as he opened the door, but nodded, motioning for Mute to step inside. Mute made his way towards the elevator, cringing a bit at the sudden brightness of the entryway to the apartments. Smoke made to snag his hand before hesitating and pulling back, opting instead to step around him and hit the call button. Mute frowned at the change in routine, but returned his hands to his pockets, finding his phone case and clicking the stand in and out, in and out as he focused his gaze on nothing. 

The elevator’s arrival ding was louder than Mute remembered, startling him. He stood there, attempted to recall when they would have increased the volume, until Smoke tugged softly at his sleeve, holding the door until Mute managed to force himself forward. Inside the box, the lights were far too bright to be comfortable, their occasional flicker causing him to squint and shuffle on his feet. 

What seemed like eons of flickering later, the elevator arrived at their floor and Mute hurried out, anxiety still rumbling deep within his stomach. Shaking it off as much as he could, Mute stepped towards the direction of their home, long legs carrying him to the door as he finally moved with purpose, so ready to be out of this hallway. It seemed to stretch on forever, but eventually arrived at their door. Mute stared a moment before he realized that Smoke was the one with the keys. His mind drifted off now that he’d reached keyless limbo, contemplating his life choices and the incessant brightness of the lights, only to rouse himself in order to allow Smoke to slide around and unlock the handle and deadbolt. The nob turned loudly but pushed open without so much as a creak. 

Smoke stepped aside to allow Mute entry, stressed gaze following him closely. The hallway light flooded the room momentarily before the door was hastily shut, causing both men to blink owlishly as their eyes adjusted. Mute braced himself for the light to flicker on and overwhelm his senses again, but it never came.

“Mark, let’s head to the bedroom, ya? Deep breathes, luv. In…hold it…out. There ya go.” Smoke’s voice was soft and coaxing; Mute found himself slowing down the rapid breathing he hadn’t even registered, chest moving in sync with the prompts he received. At the same time, his fidgeting with his phone stand slowed, the feverish rate he had previously maintained coming to a near halt. “There ya go luv. That’s it, nice and even.”

Smoke tugged slightly on the waist of Mute’s sweater, fabric pulling uncomfortably against his abdomen. He whined in discomfort at the itch but followed all the same. Smoke led them both to the bedroom, treading carefully to steer them around furniture and dirty clothes. They’d barely entered before Smoke was helping him into more comfortable, loose fitting clothes. The pajama pants still rubbed in some areas against his legs, but the softer fabric didn’t bother near as much as his rougher jeans had. Mute reached for his pocket only to remember there was none in these pants; his phone was across the room and he no longer had anything to do with his hands.

Smoke huffed as he reentered Mute’s vision, guiding him to the bed and softly pushing him down. Mute grumbled as Smoke crawled up next to him, irritable look clearly signaling he wasn’t in the mood for any of their usual nightly activities. Smoke barely seemed to take note, instead opting to reach to the other side and pick up the corner of the blanket, pulling it tight across the younger man’s chest. Mute wriggled as the blanket made contact with his skin, but Smoke was determined, quickly wrapping the other end up as well. The shorter man murmured something about wrapping burritos as he tucked in the corners. Sitting back, Smoke looked satisfied with how tightly he’d wrapped Mute, who wrinkled his nose as his hands grasped at the faux fur lining, tugging and twisting it. The closeness was nice though; Mute felt his breathing deepening, feverish movement of his hands slowing. The room was calm, quiet, and dark as he allowed himself to relax down into the mattress, willing the gnawing dread in his stomach to disperse. 

It wasn’t long before a weight settled across the top of him, arms coming around to grip his sides. Mute tensed momentarily, eyes snapping to the dark outline who hushed him. A quiet sigh later, and Mute’s eyes began to drift closed, mind more comfortable with the familiar weight pressing down into him.

Mark woke to the sound of pigeons cooing outside the window, soft morning light shining through. It took him a moment to orient himself, unable to stretch as he found himself caught within a blanket and under someone, mop of gelled hair tickling under his nose if he turned his head just right. The Brit smiled and buried his nose in that hair, inhaling deeply familiar scents intermingling with muggy smoke. When a few nudges with his nose didn’t rouse his partner, he resorted to using one of his fingers to poke up into a soft belly. James’s groan turned to grunts as Mark kept it up, snorting as the shorter man shifted to frown at him for the rude awakening.

“James, why am I wrapped in a blanket with about 20 stone on my chest?” James feigned injury, raising himself up just enough to avoid the probing fingers. His look turned serious shortly after, searching Mark’s face for any indication of…what Mark didn’t know. James found something that caused him to haul himself up and settle on his haunches, looking Mark carefully in the eyes.

“I might have picked the wrong bar last night. I think you got too much sensory overload and checked out for a bit there, luv.” He said softly, hand coming up to rub at Mark’s arm through the soft material. Mark blinked, memories coming back slowly of loud music, bright lights, noxious smells, and far too many people.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Mark’s eyes focused anywhere but James as he squirmed in discomfort.

“Hey, look at me.” Mark slid his eyes up, seeing only soft smile and kind gaze where he expected to find irritation and judgement. James shook his head and leaned down to softly capture his lips for a moment.

“You warned you were a bit on edge already. My biggest complaint is that we still haven’t bothered to invest in a weighted blanket. You’re not exactly the most comfortable thing to sleep on.” He said with a wink before hopping up, “While you extract yourself from there, I’ll make breakfast. I have no doubt the little poppet will be hungry when she wakes up, bloody kid.”

Mark smiled and watched him go, feeling drained but loved. He’d just managed to wiggle out of the blanket burrito restraint, when he heard James’s daughter speaking from the kitchen, tired yawns and soft giggles floating through to the bedroom. It wasn’t long after that the smoke alarm started blaring and both she and James were arguing about whose fault it was. Mute couldn’t help but smile as he hauled himself up to go help.


End file.
